Fight like a Sailor
by connorfemway
Summary: Faulkner's not convinced that Achilles was in his right mind when he suggested this kid could be the one to rebuild the Aquila and bring it back to it's former glory. Fem!Connor


"Why do you like the sea so much? You learned how to command a boat pretty quickly, how'd that happen?"

AND

"Did Faulkner object to you boarding the Aquila?"

A reply to TWO asks on the ask blog **connorfemway** on tumblr.

Enjoy.

* * *

A punch connects.

A small body hits the dock hard, coughing and sputtering past the blood that now flows from the broken nose. Immediately the injured rolls over to avoid the foot that comes down upon the wood.

On her feet again, Connor wipes desperately at the blood that flows from her nose into her mouth.

The noise all around is deafening. The cheer of sailors all around eggs the fighters on. As she is surrounded once again, the Assassin tries hard to remember the advice Achilles had given her.

Sailors didn't fight fair.

From the deck of the Aquila a pair of interested, dark eyes look on. A head is nodding slowly. The voice that rises up from his throat issues a challenge.

"How do ya expect ta captain this crew if ya can't even stand up ta 'em?" Faulkner is critical of the girl that has been handed over to his care by Achilles. The old man stands upon the cliff behind the manor, trained eyes watching the fight unfold at the docks. "No weak lass'll be allowed upon the Aquila, let alone _captain_ 'er! Ya may've put 'er back toge'er but tha don't say squat!"

Her bare arms are stained with blood. She spits it on the ground as the sailors circle. A pair of bloodied fists is raised, ready and willingly.

One of the men moves up behind her, reaching out to snatch at her hair. Dodging to the side, Connor digs her fist into the much bigger man's gut. When Achilles' voice returns to her thoughts, she grabs the back of the man's head and drives her fist again and again into his gut.

"Now yer learnin'!" Faulkner howls from the deck, the cheers of the men growing louder. Drink is raised by the Aquila's captain.

It creates a rush in the air. The Assassin breathes in the sweat, the blood, the salt of the sea. The target of her assault is flung back to writhe upon the dock. A bruised forearm is raised just in time to catch the second punch delivered by the man who broke her nose.

Before the native can counter, another sailor comes up behind her and grabs her by the shoulders, strong enough to lift her a few inches up off the ground. His chest is broad and sweaty against her back.

The Assassin drives her elbows backwards but they cause little damage. As the first sailor moves in to deliver another punch to her face, she whips her head backwards. Stars flash before her eyes as her head connects with the second sailor's. Disoriented the man releases Connor, just in time for the punch to miss her face and hit the second sailor's instead.

Laughter explodes from the sailors all around. Taking advantage of the first confused sailor, Connor sweeps her leg beneath his feet to topple him. He crashes to the wood of the dock with a grunt.

"Ya all are 'bout as heavy as a buncha goddam _whales_! What're ya doin' gettin' toppled by a _pup_?" Faulkner waves his bottle, a bit of drink spilling out of the top to splash across the new deck of the Aquila.

The Assassin stumbles backwards after righting her stance. Heavy breathes fall past her lips, but she is far from done by the looks of the crew. It was a test of endurance unlike anything she'd had to face yet.

There are things the Assassin has that these sailors do not. Smaller in build and quicker on her feet, it is not hard to avoid their clumsy attacks. But they have the advantage of a team.

When the Assassin raises her arms to block a punch thrown by one of the bigger crew men, she's startled to find herself almost lifted into the air with the force. Stumbling back she lands amongst the outer circle of crew members, knocking many of them over. Knocking tankards of alcohol over, and onto her, making her wounds cry out with the sting.

"An she's up again!" Faulkner has made his way down to the deck, treading with jolly feet. "Ya ever seen a fighter like 'er?"

"No," one of the crewmen who had been knocked over coughs, the Assassin rising to her feet, shaking off the drink on her arms. Now she reeked of sweat, salt, blood, and booze, not a good combination when she needed to focus.

One of the men is thrown off the dock and into the water when he charges at her. The Assassin receives a blow to the back. She snatches two men by the head and cracks their skulls together. The sailors grab a hold of her hair and drag her across the deck. These men are flipped over her shoulders, guts stomped on by bare feet with powerful legs attached.

Every part of Connor's body screams with pain, and yet she stands and squares off with the crew. It feels as though they have been fighting forever here on this ruined dock, in the shadow of the mighty Aquila.

But an end must come to all things. Faulkner steps forward into the middle of the ring of sailors, and immediately the crew members straighten up. They smile bloody smiles and cheer. Connor coughs, wiping desperately at her face as Faulkner approaches. Her ankles buckle beneath her but she catches herself, stumbling to one side. The seafarer's hands are on her shoulders to straighten her.

"Ne'er in my time 'ave I seen such a little lass figh' like a sailor," the Assassin, who hates to be touched, is receiving far too many pats on the back and shoulders for her liking. There is nothing she can do though, nothing she feels like doing. A moment's rest is appreciated - her coiled muscles untwist, the throbbing in her head lessens. "I think there's hope for ya yet! Whada ya say, boys?"

Before her eyes the crew that was once ready to battle and battle has transitioned - if it was even possible, more booze has appeared in the hands of men who are now missing teeth. The native girl is led by the shoulders to sit at one of the many rickety tables outside of the sailor's quarters. Men are talking to her, praising her. They sit across from her and talk about stance, strategy, and she listens with some interest. But she can't bring herself to talk yet, still trying to catch her own breath.

Achilles has disappeared from the cliff behind the manor. The back door shuts slowly.

"C'mon lass, ya gotta try it sometime," a tankard is shoved into the teenage girl's hands by the man who broke her nose, and she looks down into it with some wariness.

Faulkner moves up behind the girl and puts a hand on her shoulder once again, squeezing hard and giving her a friendly shake. He raises his tankard.

"Whada ya say, boys? We alright with this lass becomin' our dear ol' captain?"

A big change from the first day he'd met the native girl.

A highly superstitious man, Faulkner gawked at Achilles' proposal that the girl might fix up the Aquila and become a part of the crew.

A woman upon a seafaring ship would be bad luck incarnate, he'd said. It had taken much to prove to him that Connor was not the type of girl who sat idly by.

The repairs of the Aquila had been undertaken. She led a few of the sobered crew members in the repairs. The Assassin had the guts to lead, but still Faulkner doubted her.

The old seafarer seemed relieved to see the way Connor could fight men double her size and still prevail. It was as though he had finally reconciled with himself that it was time to pass on the torch - and this girl was just the person to receive it.

Some of the skeptical eyes of the crew were now changed for good. Watching the strongest men among them get toppled by a girl of barely adult age? There was respect earned here.

All of the crew raise their tankards, and so does Connor, trying hard not to let her arm shake. All drink together, and the native sputters on her drink, earning some hearty laughter.

The sea was a glorious place. Oftentimes Connor finds herself simply closing her eyes and inhaling deeply, the smell of the oceans and of the crew. The blood and the sweat and the booze and the salt.

The Aquila was her favorite place in this new world. It was a place where instead of having to hide everything, she could reveal all and still be respected by her crew. A good leader, gender and native background mattered little. So little, as time went on, that sometimes Connor forgot that she was different from the men upon the same deck as her. And sometimes so did they.

Upon the Aquila's deck, Connor could be Ratonhnhaké:ton once again.


End file.
